


you'll be safe here.

by lamourestout



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Gen, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mild Blood, Niccoló POV, homophobic violence, talks of:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-01-23 03:05:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18541012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamourestout/pseuds/lamourestout
Summary: After the fight in s3 ep6, the boys seek refuge at Filippo's and Nico is a concerned boyfriend.





	1. the night.

**Author's Note:**

> i ... have been very worried about marti ... as always.

The phone, the old nokia ringtone, breaks Nico out of his focus, a real focus tonight, because he promises his parents he’ll focus on his homework and his studies during the week, so that he can spend the weekends with Marti. He’s selfish that way, but he wants as much time with Marti as possible. They text all the time, and they talk on the phone most nights. And the boys went out tonight, but he couldn’t. He doesn’t expect Filippo’s voice when he picks up; he expects Marti’s ‘settling down for bed’ voice. He doesn’t expect,

“Did Marti text you?” In lieu of _hello_.

“No.”

“They’re on their way over. The four of them. You should come, also.”

“What, for more beer?” Nico is already writing a note, balancing his phone between his shoulder and his ear, so that his parents don’t yell at him for disappearing. He can hear the half-disguised fear, worry in Filippo’s voice, and he doesn’t want to vocalize what he fears is the truth.

“No, Nico.” It tells him everything, and he’s pulling on his jeans, one-handed, pushing his feet into his shoes, the backs folded down. Nico doesn’t say anything else, just lets Filippo eventually fill the silence. “All he said is that they got into a fight.” And Nico lets out a sharp breath. He shouldn’t make assumptions. It could have been anything. But he ... has a feeling. A horrible feeling. And they didn’t tell Filippo about the homophobic assholes, Marti kept his insistence to not tell.

“Tell him I’m on my way, okay? I’ll be there as quick as I can.” He doesn’t even say goodbye, just hangs up, and slides his phone into his pocket. He’s quickly shutting off everything in his room, and slipping out of his room, not closing it all the way. The light in his parents’ room is off, and so he hopes that they’re asleep. The note is set on the piano, and he’s slipping out of the apartment, grabbing his keys on the way out. A careful click of the front door as he sneaks out.

He debates, as he races down to the street, the bus stop, if running to Filippo’s would be quicker. He wonders this, as nervous energy races under his skin, as he waits for the bus. His phone beeps, and he’s fumbling to get his phone out of his pocket.

 **From Martino Rametta** : you don’t have to come, i know you're studying, if you can't, it's okay.

 **To Martino Rametta** : yes, i do. i’m already on my way.

Of course he has to be there. He has to be there for Marti. He doesn’t have a choice. He’ll find out the details later, they’ll figure out the details later. All he’s thinking about is that he has to be there for Marti. He needs to know that Marti is okay.

The whole bus ride is him nervously bouncing his leg, nervously needing to get to Marti as soon as he can. The bus isn’t moving fast enough for him. He needs to have been there ten minutes ago. Racing off the bus, seemingly before it even stopped. A quick, ‘i’m here’ text sent to Filippo. A ring of the bell.

He runs up the stairs. Obviously. As fast as he can. Knocking on the door, out of breath.

He doesn’t expect Marti to open the door. But there Marti is, and Nico hasn’t a single response except for immediately pull Marti into as tight of a hug as he can. Until Marti gasps out a bit in pain, which makes Nico pull away quickly. Hands rest on the outsides of Marti’s upper arms.

“I’m okay, Nì.” Nico doesn’t believe him, but they move from the doorway, further into the apartment, the door closes behind them.

“Let me see you.” Nico says, and as Marti tries to hide a little, they move into the light, and Nico is trying to make sure nothing is broken on Marti’s face. Nothing appears to be broken, but Marti looks ━ distinctly less _Marti_. Like he’s drifting back into hiding, and it makes his chest feel tight. Taking in the redness on Marti’s face, an eye that looks a little swollen, the way Marti flinches a bit.

“I brought you a shirt, I didn’t ━ I thought you might need ━ ” It’s still clenched in his hand. It has been for the whole ride over. The whole race up the stairs. Marti’s hands grip his face, pulling him in to kiss him hard. Nico doesn’t know what to do with his hands, afraid to hurt, so he keeps them resting on Marti’s arms, carefully, carefully. But at least, Marti’s lips appear to be free of pain, or at least, the pain is tempered by _them_. And he’ll kiss Marti as long as Marti wants, as long as Marti can, because there’s nothing that can go wrong when they kiss.

“I’m more hurt than you, do I get a kiss?”A voice, from the rest of the apartment, Elia, and Marti’s pulling away leaning his forehead against Nico’s, a bit of laughter shared between the two of them.

“Get your own boyfriend.” Marti’s saying, moving away from Nico after a long minute.

“Maybe I will.” Elia’s muttering from his place on a chair.

“Go, sit.” Nico pushes, but doesn’t push, Marti toward the couch, down sitting on the couch, next to a moaning and complaining Luca, who has a icepack on his face. Laying on a pillow propped up against the arm of the couch. Marti follows Nico’s firm insistence, settling down on the couch. Nico gives him the shirt he’s brought. He doesn’t know what else to do with it. Doesn’t know what else to do.

“Where’s Filippo?” Nico doesn’t know what else to say.

“In the bathroom. With Gio.” Marti replies.

“I’ll be right back.” Is what he says. A press of a kiss against the top of Marti’s head. A quick pause, “You okay, Luca?” Nico reaches to ruffle Luca’s hair a bit,

“Yeah.” Luca answers, and it makes Nico smile a bit.

“That’s good.” A bit of a conspiratorial look shared with Marti before he navigates the apartment, finding the bathroom, leaning up against the doorframe to take in a suitably disgruntled Gio being assisted by Filippo. Gio trying to push away Filippo’s assisting hands, muttering that he can do it himself, before he resigns to letting Filippo help.

“Hey, Nico.” Blood is dripping slightly from one of Gio’s nostrils, the other blocked by a wad of tissue.

“Hey.” Nico’s still trying to take it all in. Trying to not jump to conclusions that he doesn’t need to jump to. (He is jumping.)  “I think Elia is trying to steal me from Marti. Or Marti from me. I’m not sure.” Anything to lighten the grim, tense mood in the apartment.

“Oh?” There are bandages in a few places on Gio’s face, covering the worst skin breakages.

“Something about someone kissing his injuries better ... or something.” Mutters, and it doesn’t really matter. Eyes are slowly dripping to the ground, and he feels out of place, just another body in this apartment, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

“Did Marti say anything about what happened?” Gio asks, and he has to look back up.

“I just got here.” A thoughtful moment, and Gio nods. Moves as if he’s going to say something, but Filippo beats him to it.

“Alright. There you go. Take the tissues, you’re not dripping any more blood on my floors.” Gio grabs the box of tissues, but has to catch a couple blood drops on his hand. A pause, and Gio stops before he goes into the rest of the apartment.

“He said we couldn’t go back to his place.” Gio tells him.

“Yeah. He doesn’t want her to know.” _Especially_ if this is because of ... last time.

“Yeah.” Gio mutters. Another pause. A sigh. And Gio leaves, moving to the rest of the apartment, settling down in the seating by the rest of the boys. And it’s just him and Filippo. Quiet. Nico stares at the tiled floor.

“He didn’t want you to know, either. If ━ it has to do with what I think, he didn’t want you to know. He didn’t want you to worry about him.” ━━ “Or ... us.” Because it’s not Filippo’s responsibility to take care of them. It’s their job to take care of themselves. But Filippo is ━ he’s older, he’s more experienced, he’s the person they’ve been going to, more and more, for advice. He’s talked to Filippo a bit about university. But he still can’t look Filippo in the eye, not right now.

“He doesn’t realize I’m always worried about him. About both of you. I have to worry.” He hasn’t know Filippo long, but ━ he’s already become such an important part of his life. And he knows he’s an important part of Marti’s life. If he had an elder brother, he would want it to be Filippo. Or ━ a cool older cousin. “I know I couldn’t have prevented this, but it ━ ” Nico sneaks a glance, looking up a bit, and Filippo’s running a head over his head. Nico’s been able to hide, sneak by as _straight_ for long enough, where he ━ hasn’t really come into contact with this kind of stuff. He’s been lucky, he supposes.

He knows that Filippo has to deal with this more often. That Marti is going to have to deal with it often. That he’s going to have to deal with it if he shows Marti affection in public. It makes him want to scream and run away to another country. It makes him angry and tired and everything else.

“I ━ two ━ ? or three weeks ago,” He starts. A moment, and he thinks that maybe he shouldn’t say, but his tongue is rattling on before he fully thinks, “We were at some party that Incanti was throwing, and everything was fine, everything was more than fine, and then some fucking ━ homophobic assholes ━ they called him a ━”  He won’t say the word, but he knows that Filippo knows what he’s implying, because Filippo reacts; he reacts minutely, but Nico notices. “And there was a scuffle. No one got hurt _then_ , and it was ━” He can’t say _okay_ . “He just didn’t want to worry anyone, since no one got hurt.”  Filippo leans forward on his thighs. Head resting in his palms a minute.  “I’m sorry, Filippo. I don’t want to worry you, or make you upset.” He feels _stupid_.

“No, just ━ a moment.” Filippo mutters. Nervous energy in Nico’s skin. A sigh from Filippo, and he stands, “I’ll go get Marti,” and, “They’d all like a beer, right?” A question that doesn’t need an answer. And Filippo pauses before he leaves, “You’re always safe here. As safe as I can make it.” Filippo tells him, and slides past him into the rest of the apartment. Voices. And then Marti.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I’m okay, Nì.” Marti repeats. Marti’s still holding onto the Nico’s extra shirt. And Nico still doesn’t believe him,

“I’m going to take care of you.” Nico says and Marti scoffs a little, but moving to sit on the edge of the bathtub, while Nico swings the door closed a bit more, so there’s just a thin ribbon of air between the door and the frame. A bit more privacy in the most private place they know. And Nico moves to kneel on the bathmat, between Marti’s legs. Cupping Marti’s cheeks in his hands, light touches.

“Do you want to talk? Or should I get you cleaned up?”

“I don’t need help.” Marti tries to protest,

“Please, Marti ━ ” Nico’s close and _inspecting_ , now, noticing flakes of blood around Marti’s nose. A drop of his gaze to Marti’s shirt sleeve cuff, and noticing the drying blood there, that stains Marti’s wrist, a little.

“I don’t know.” Marti sounds more defeated, now, and sinks a bit more in on himself. A brush of his thumbs over Marti’s cheeks, and Nico has an action plan, at least for the next five minutes.

“Alright. Shirt, off.”

“It’s hardly the time, Nico.” It makes Marti sit up a little more, unamused, and that’s _good_.

“No, it is. I’m going to try wash some of the blood out of the sleeve, so it doesn’t stain. Take if off.” He unbuttons the first button, and lets Marti continues unbuttoning the rest of the buttons, slowly. A wince or two that stabs Nico in the heart. He slowly pulls it off his arms, and hands it to Nico, who stands. And Marti pulls Nico’s spare shirt on, arms settling in his lap.

The tv flicks on in the other room, a less-than-enthusiastic squabble of voices fighting for what to watch.

“Do you want to text my mom for me?” Nico pulls his phone out of his pocket, offering it to Marti, who takes it. He’s taking the hand soap, rubbing it into the sleeve,

“What should I say?” Rinsing it out, more soap.

“At Marti’s ━ _no_ , **with** Marti. Don’t worry. I needed to go.” Marti types some, and then quietly,

“You didn’t have to come.” Nico turns back towards Marti.

“Yes. I did.” He’s firm. He’s always going to be here for Marti. Marti is always there for him. They’re always there for each other. And Marti finishes typing.

“Okay. Sent. Here.” Hands Nico’s phone back to him, who pushes it back into his pocket. It’s quiet for a bit, just the sound of the tap turning on and off as Nico continues to try to wash as much of the half-dried blood out of the sleeve.

“I think I’m going to let it soak a little.” Nico finally decides. And he grabs a washcloth, wets one corner, and kneels back down in front of Marti. “You have a little blood on your nose.” Marti nods, but he’s been staring silently for many minutes, and Nico is _worried_. He’s staring silently, and isn’t meeting Nico’s eyes. “Hey...” One of his hands rests on Marti’s cheek.

“Nico, I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“I am.”

“ _Marti_.” A sigh, and Marti sinks a little more. “Can you please talk to me?” Thumb brushes over his cheekbone. “Please.” Marti moves his hand, taking a hold of Nico’s hand, moving it from his cheek, to let them rest on Marti’s thigh.

“I ━ knew this shit would happen. I knew that if I wanted to be ━ _me_ then I would risk getting beat up and ...” Marti’s eyes meet his for a second, then flash back down. His head turns a bit away from Nico. “Filippo said ━ he told me that ━” He sighs, and quiets. Clears his throat, “Remember when ... in ━ November. After All Saint’s? That week? I was being really shitty to Filippo about ━ I was afraid of being  ‘ _gay - gay’_  and ━ he told me how ━ since he doesn’t hide,” Marti’s halting words, and Nico just listens. He listens and lets his thumb brush over Marti’s thumb, trying to keep him steady.  “About how he risks getting beat up or worse,” Marti clears his throat again, but it doesn’t hide the throaty quality his voice takes on, “And I wasn’t even doing anything, Ni, I was just there, we were just drinking and dancing poorly, because you _know_ Luca can’t dance, and I didn’t do anything to make them hate me.” His hand tightens around Nico’s, his breath is shaky where it exhales. “I’m really angry and really just ━ I understand but I _don’t understand_. I don’t want ━” Nico abandons the washcloth, dropping it to the ground beside them, and he’s letting go of Marti’s hand so that he can pull him into a tight hug. Marti exhales in a gasp of pain, but his arms are wrapping around Nico just as tightly.

“I’m going to beat up every homophobe in this fucking country.” Nico promises. They both know he can’t. He won’t. He won’t go looking for a fight, that would just exasperate the situation.

“I don’t want to get hit again.” Marti’s burying his face in Nico’s shoulder. “When it was just ━” He pulls back a minute, “ _Whoever_ saying dumb shit at school, it was whatever ━ it was just words, it _hurt_ but no one got hurt. But now I got all of them involved, and they shouldn’t have had to fight anyone, and I don’t **want** anyone to have to fight. I don’t know how to fight, Luca can’t fight, Gio isn’t a fighter, Elia isn’t really either.” A pause. “You aren’t.”

“No. We’re not.” He wants to fix everything, but he _can’t_ , and it makes him upset, it makes him want to scream or cry or run away with Marti. (But he knows Marti would _never_ agree to running away.)  “I don’t want you to get hit ever again. I ━ will ━ we can fix this. We can ━” He has a lump in his throat, he doesn’t want to say what he was thinking. He doesn’t want to say, _we can try to be less couple-y in public_. _Maybe then no one will get hit anymore_. “I don’t have to go out with you guys.”

“Don’t do that.” A frown on Nico’s face, and Marti’s pulling further away, letting his arms stay on Nico, “Don’t blame yourself.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Nico, I can’t even think ━ I don’t know what to do, I ━”   (He’s making things worse, he makes things worse. **No**.   He forces himself. He’s not going to do that. He’s not going to make things worse. He doesn’t make things worse. Think the opposite of what his brain is telling him right now.)  He keeps a careful grip on Marti, lets him organize thoughts, “I’m staying here tonight. I think they’re all staying here tonight. I would like it if you stayed, also. If you can.” Nico nods.

“What’s my mom going to do? Come find me and drag me home? I’d like to see her try.” He smiles, but it’s a bit tight, and a bit of an attempt to make things a bit better, but it’s there. And Marti’s lips quirk a little into a ghost of a smile. “I’m staying. I’m always here for you.” It’s a promise. “We can play a game.” And Marti’s eyes do finally meet his eyes for more than a second.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s called _Martino e Niccolò. Minuto per minuto._ We only worry about what’s happening in the next minute. Does that sound good?”

“So what are we doing in the next minute?” Faux pensive, Nico studies Marti for a moment.

“How about I get the blood off your face?” A quiet question.

“Probably a good idea.”

“Okay. We’ll do that.” Nico’s picking up the washcloth, moving out of any grip they still have on each other, and he takes a light grip on Marti’s chin to tilt his head up a little. His other hand holds the washcloth, wets Marti’s skin, wipes the half-dried blood off. Just the sounds of them breathing closely together for a minute. Two. How many ever until Nico is thoroughly satisfied with his work. Shifts the washcloth to a dry corner and dries off the small bit of Marti’s skin he’s washed.

“Done?” Marti finally says.

“Yeah.” Nico rests the washcloth on the side of the bath next to Marti. “You choose what we do in this next minute.” Looks up at Marti.

“I think we should kiss.”

“Really?”

“Really.” And Marti’s leaning closer to kiss him gently, but he pushes fully up on his knees to kiss him deeper. It’s nice to kiss Marti, just slowly and _them_. But he has to pull away,

“We should go back out there. I have old knees, Marti. I can’t keep kneeling all night.” A little breath of a laugh from Marti, and Marti’s fingers brush through his hair a moment.

“Alright.” Nico stands first, and remembers Marti’s shirt soaking in the sink. First, offers his hand to Marti to help him to his feet. Marti, eyes rolling slightly, but taking Nico’s gesture with a bit of a soft smile. Marti intertwines their fingers, which makes Nico smile. A squeeze of Marti’s hand. A returned squeeze. Their hands stay together, and Nico’s one-handedly squeezing out some of the excess water in the sleeve of Marti’s shirt, and moving to hang it up on Filippo’s towel rack.

A moment, and Marti says, quietly, “Can I just ━” He’s just moving to lean against Nico, one arm sliding around Nico’s waist, keeping their hands together.

“We don’t have to go back out there. We can just stay here.” One arm around Marti, and he says the words quietly.

“No. I want to be with them. But, just one minute more?”

“Of course.” Another squeeze of Marti’s hand and, “I love you.” Marti’s leaning a little of his weight against Nico, and whispering,

“I know.” A minute. Two. He pulls back. “I love you.” And, “Thank you for coming.” He had to come to Marti, there was never a moment where he actually made a choice. It was just what had to happen.

Five minutes later, with Netflix blaring at a significantly lower volume than they might otherwise be watching it, since _technically_ Ele is in her room, and they’re supposed to **not disturb her** , they’re pushing Luca up to sit more, propped up against the far side of the couch, so that Nico can sit, a pillow tossed to him from Gio to put behind his back. There’s a pack of beers on the coffee table. Marti’s settling against Nico, back resting against Nico’s chest, their feet a mess of annoyances for Luca on the other end of the couch.

Nico’s arms around Marti, and they’re shifting a little to be as comfortable as they can, Marti moving a bit so he can rest better against Nico. A minimal amount of conversation. Nico thinks Elia might be half asleep, awkwardly sitting in an armchair. Gio is half-heartedly watching the show, sipping his beer. One of Nico’s hands traces circles on one of Marti’s hands.

Luca slumps more and more against his arm of the chair until Nico thinks he’s also falling asleep. He tries to keep his feet moving as little as he can so he doesn’t disturb.

“I’m going to head to bed. Do you guys want to keep the tv on?” Filippo stands, after they all sit quietly for the rest of the episode. “Sorry I don’t have an air mattress or something.” Half-asleep chorus of _It’s okay_.

“Goodnight.” Nico offers, and everyone else mumbles out similar sentiments. Filippo hands Nico the tv remote.

“Goodnight.” Filippo shuts off most of the rest of the lights in the apartment.

The tv rests on the lines of movie selections. No one makes any mention of wanting to watch something else. Nico doesn’t care. Gio finally leans forward to set his beer on the table. Marti is adjusting his position against Nico’s chest.

No one says anything; Nico suspects this is because they’re all mostly asleep, and because no one quite knows _what_ to say. He doesn’t know what to say, either. At the very least, he can make sure he stays awake until he thinks that everyone else has fallen asleep.


	2. the day after.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nico and marti and holy thursday snapshots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set the morning / day after the last chapter, aka the day after the fight. again, they talk about what happened, and nico reliably ruminates on how much he loves marti. (which, spoiler alert: it's a lot)

“You could use my shower, if you want.” Nico’s shoving his hastily abandoned spread of homework, into some semblance of a pile. Marti sitting on his bed, messing with his phone, and he looks up. “Or at least ━” Nico’s bag hangs in his hand. “Do you want to show me your chest? Just ━ If you’re hurt.” All of Marti’s grimaces replay in his mind. Marti sighs. 

“You’re just going to be worried.” 

“I’m going to be worried  _ anyway _ .” Nico sets his bag down, sitting across from Marti on his bed, legs crossing, “I just want to know how hurt you are. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you more.” 

“I would tell you.” 

“I know you would.” 

“Do you think I should take a shower?” 

“I don’t know, do you want to? We’d have time. We have as much time as we want.” Another minute of quiet. There’s been a lot of quiet in the last -- what, twelve hours? Twenty-four? He doesn’t know. 

“I ━” Marti just looks lost. A loss for words, a loss for what’s all going on, a loss for ━ everything, right now. Nico feels lost, he doesn’t know how to make this better, he just wants to be able to kiss Marti and make everything better, but it doesn’t work like that. 

“I’m not trying to push you, Marti, I promise. I’m just afraid I’ll hurt you if I touch you. That’s all I want to know, right now.” He scoots forward enough so that their knees touch. Lets his hand rest half on his knee, half on Marti’s, rubbing his finger gently over Marti’s jeans. 

“I think it’s just bruises.” Marti answers after some more silence. 

“Do you want to check?” Nico keeps his eyes fixed on Marti’s ducked head, roving eyes. “ _ We _ don’t have to. You can go take a shower and look for yourself.” Marti shakily exhales, and his fingers come to take a hold of a couple of Nico’s, haphazardly. 

“I would like to take a shower with you.” Marti finally tells him, and he glances up at Nico, almost checking for permission. Reminder that it’s okay that he wants that. And Nico smiles at him. Giving silent reassurance, and then  _ verbal _ reassurance. 

“I would like that.” A nod, and Marti’s lips find just a slight curve upwards. 

“Okay.” Nico lets his grin grow on his face, and bounces the bed a little before getting up. Offers a hand to Marti. “You’re way too eager about this.” Marti says as he allows himself to be pulled off the bed. “One might think you’re just trying to get me naked.” 

“Absolutely not. That’s absurd. This is purely for making things better.” Showers make everything better ━ even if they’re not  _ sexy  _ showers. A good shower with good water pressure makes it easy for him to clear his mind, just letting the water batter against his head, plastering his hair down over his eyes, sending streams down his face, down his chest, down his legs. People always talk about how they think about anything and everything in the shower, but he thinks of  _ nothing _ . Just the feeling of the water, the privacy and the space to allow himself to just stop. Maybe not put on a show. He can just stand there, and let the water run over him, and stare blankly at the shower wall in front of him. It’s so much easier. 

“I’m stealing more of your clothes.” Marti tells him, moving to Nico’s dresser, pulling out a shirt, pants. “You can’t stop me.” It makes Marti smile a bit, so everything is fine, it’s all going to be alright. 

“Oh,  _ no _ . I’m dating a thief. I’ll have nothing left.” Nico steps closer, carefully sliding his arms around Marti’s waist from behind. Marti’s hands, filled with Nico’s clothes, rest on Nico’s. Nico presses his face into the back of Marti’s neck. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He’s afraid of his voice shaking, so if he muffles it a little, Marti won’t notice. 

“I’m okay, Ni.” Marti’s voice does shake a little, because it’s not muffled. “I’m so much better with you here.” Nico leaves a kiss pressed against the back of Marti’s neck, before letting go, moving to rummage through his drawers himself, pulling out new clothes. 

Looks at Marti when he’s chosen. 

A suddenly different silence. 

Lets his eyes flicker to Marti’s lips, 

“Can I ━ ” Marti nods, and Nico’s pushed up on his toes, just the slightest amount that he needs to in order to reach Marti’s lips, leaning towards him, and Marti’s hands are quick to hold onto Nico’s waist, or his hands bunched in a shirt and pants, rest on Nico’s waist. Deepening their kiss, Nico’s hands moving to rest on Marti’s chest. 

They move apart, breathing a little heavy. 

“We should really ━ ” Nico starts, but Marti’s lips, just-kissed, parted just slightly, distract him and, 

“Should really  _ what _ ?” Marti’s eyes are drifting back to normal, more familiar, as he pushes back in, hands dropping the clothes onto the floor by Nico’s feet so he can grab a hold of Nico’s waist, pull him closer, and Nico has dropped what he was holding, hands coming to hold Marti’s face, and kissing him. Marti pushes him back against the dresser, maneuvering him to press as close as he can, Nico’s chin tilting up a little more as they get closer. 

“Marti --” When he finally can work up the will to pull away, or more -- gently push Marti’s face away, centimeters away. “We should take that shower.” He doesn’t even want anything. He just wants to kiss Marti. Wash his hair. Wash his body. That’s what he wants. He wants Marti to wash  _ his  _ hair. It’s nice.

“You’re very eager to get me naked.” Marti teases, and Nico shrugs a little, as much as he can, “That’s okay. I’m ━ ” Marti’s face flushes a little, “For you.” Nico feels so calm. When Marti slowly lets down walls. Lets Nico see him. A smile spreads on his face. 

“I just want to shower.” He says quietly. Marti’s smile just gets bigger, 

“That’s perfect.” Nico lets his hands slide down to rest on Marti’s chest. “You’re perfect.” Marti’s voice gets quieter, just enough so that it’s just for them. 

“ _ You’re _ perfect.” Nico repeats back. Marti smiles, amused, 

“ _ We’re  _ perfect.” Marti concludes. Nico breathes out a laugh, lips spread in a wide smile, and he’s pushing forward to kiss Marti again, but it starts as open-mouthed kisses and ends in them just smiling at each other. 

“We’re really perfect. And everyone should be jealous of us.” Nico tells Marti. 

“They should.” Marti agrees. “When do your parents get home?” Nico’s laughing, a light push of Marti’s body away from him, so he can bend down to grab their discarded clothing choices, 

“Later. Tonight. After dinner. I don’t know.” Stands back up. 

“Good enough for me.” Marti leans in to kiss him again, but Nico ducks away. 

“No more kissing until we get in the shower. I need to shower, anyway.” 

 

But they make it to the bathroom. They make it to Nico slowly helping Marti pull his shirt up over his head. It’s tossed, maybe it lands in the sink. Nico slowly running his hand over Marti’s chest, his stomach. Hands solidly moving over Marti’s sides.

“It doesn’t look that bad. Really. No permanent injury.” His hands come back to rest on Marti’s chest. “How do you feel?” 

“I’m fine.” Nico wants to sigh, wants to beg for Marti to say something other than  _ I’m fine _ . So he can help. But instead of inevitably making Marti feel bad, he just nods. 

“Good.” Marti’s hands push at the hem of his own shirt, and he obliges, letting Marti push it up, and it drops to the floor once it messes his hair. 

“I’m glad you weren’t there.” Marti tells him. “I’m glad no one punched you.”  _ ( He’s not. He wishes he’d gotten hit instead of Marti. He would’ve taken any number of hits if it meant Marti didn’t get hit at all. He can’t admit this.)  _

“Oh,” His previous feelings that maybe they should stop being in public together have flown away. Completely. Gone. He can never let Marti out of his sight. Ever again. “Marti...” He’s looping his arms around Marti’s shoulders, pulling him as close as they can be, “I’m glad you’re okay. You’re okay. Gio and Elia and Luca are okay. I’m okay.” He repeats. 

“I know.” 

Their jeans slide off, everything slides off, a pile on the floor next to the pile of things they’re going to change into afterwards. 

Nico washes Marti’s hair. Or, he puts soap in it, bubbles it up, and then makes Marti’s hair into a soap mohawk. And it makes Marti laugh, bat Nico’s hands away, smooth his hair down. 

“I should have an Instagram, just for cute pictures of you.” Nico considers. 

“What, me with a soap mohawk?” 

“Yeah. Only pictures of you with a soap mohawk.” 

“I’m going to post only pictures of  _ you  _ with a soap mohawk.” Marti retorts, reaching for the shampoo to lather up his hands, lather up Nico’s hair ━ one soapy hand pushing at his shoulder, to turn him around. 

 

“Do you want to talk? Or just ━ something else?” He thinks he’ll be asking the same things for a long time. A shower, a way to let themselves be silly and mess around a bit, doesn’t stop the fact that it’s been a rough day. 

He doesn’t want to make Marti retreat, fall back inside of himself in the way that makes him want to rip his own heart out ━ it might hurt less. But at least Marti is safe here, in Nico’s room, in Nico’s clothes. 

“We could talk or ━  watch a movie━ ?” Nico’s struggling. Words that often rest heavy and quick on his tongue are absent. “Whatever you want. Always whatever you want.” Marti’s hands mess with his phone, turning it over, and over, and over, on the corners. Nico can’t keep his eyes off of it, watching. 

“I have a lot of homework.” It feels like he’s being dismissed. And it’s probably just his stupid brain telling him the wrong thing. But he would still leave his room, he would leave the house, he would leave Rome, he would leave Italy, Europe, the goddamn planet if Marti asked. He would do anything if Marti asked. 

“Okay. You can use my desk.” He’s quickly gathering up his things. He can go sit on the kitchen table. 

“I don’t have any of my stuff.” Marti looks up at him. The phone stops in it’s spin. Nico, with his books haphazardly piled in his arms, his laptop half falling out of his arms. “I have to go home and get it.” 

“Are you coming back?” He doesn’t want Marti to leave. 

“Are you coming with me?” Marti offers instead, and slides off the bed. Their jackets in a pile on the floor, picked up. A smile on Marti’s face makes him let out a relieved breath. His eyes drift shut for a moment, relief.

“Do you want me to?” Marti is sliding his jacket on, one arm at a time, and Nico is angry at himself for thinking that Marti wants him to  _ go away _ . 

“Of course.” Marti is never cruel or annoyed and never says  _ what the fuck do you mean? what are you saying?  _ He’s always ready to adapt, understand, listen. And when he does ask? It’s kind and genuine and full of  _ let me understand _ . 

“Could we stop at the grocery store on the way back?” He’s taking his jacket from Marti, sliding it on quickly, mentally trying to take catalog of what they have in the pantry. He doesn’t know what they have. 

“Yeah. We can do that.” Marti looks so soft, kind. “I would like that.” 

The bus stop. A growing, darkening bruise around Marti’s eye that feels like a bruise in Nico’s chest, that pains whenever he breathes. The half foot of space between them on the bench, waiting for the bus. They talk, and they don’t talk, and they’re laughing as they get on the bus, everything feeling a bit more at ease. (It’s going to be okay.) Their boisterousness lets them settle into a closeness that’s excused by their excitement, close without suspicion. 

Quiet as they get up to Marti’s door, and it’s supposed to be quick, in and out. 

Shoes stay on. 

There’s no sound in the rest of the apartment; Marti’s mom is probably out, but she still could be sleeping or quiet. Quick, quiet into Marti’s room. Marti starts scooping up books, computer, pencils, and Nico sheds his coat, the comfortable air of Marti’s room touching him.

“We’re not staying long.” Nico just shrugs, moving to Marti’s dresser, digging out a sweatshirt he’s borrowed a number of times. He’s familiar with it. He wants it.

“I’m stealing from you.” Marti turns, and Nico’s holding up the sweatshirt, silent exchange that, if different, would end in Nico putting it away. But Marti looks carefully fond, chuckles a little, and Nico’s pulling the sweatshirt on over his head. He feels calm. Grounded. Safe. Marti’s clothes have a specific smell, whether it’s  _ Marti  _ or the laundry soap his mother uses, whatever it is wafes down around him. A shield. A safe place that only Marti can enter. 

“You look a little distant.” Marti has moved, his bag slung over his shoulder, close in front of him, a concerned inquiring look Nico is familiar with. His hands bunch in the sweatshirt, holding it tightly. He’s getting lost in his own head. 

“Sorry.”  He doesn’t know how long Marti has been standing there. Probably a long time as he loses himself.

“No, don’t worry.” Marti smiles at him, and his chest feels warm. “You must be thinking really hard about our grocery list.” He feels safe.

“I feel safe.” He has to say it. He’s not supposed to feel like this ━ afraid and hurt and like he’s going to lose Marti and ━ “With you.” He’s not the one who’s supposed to feel unsafe. Marti ━ out of the two of them ━ is the one that has the right to feel like this. He just doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. He wants all the answers and he has none.

“I’m glad.” Marti says quietly. A silence, just a moment, and then Marti’s arms are around him, holding him close and tight. “You’re safe.” Nico’s hands bunch in Marti’s jacket. He has to grip tightly, keep him close and safe. 

“I don’t want to lose you.” Marti’s arms tighten around him. 

“You’re not. You’re not, I promise.” 

 

The grocery store is nice. The fluorescent lights are an interesting reminder of a hospital room, the starkness, the harshness of them, bounced away from him by aisles of food. By Marti’s hair and smile and the way his face scrunches up a little, comparing prices in front of every shelf. 

Nico sneaks a bottle of wine into the cart; Marti notices, a quick double take as Nico rustles around other groceries to set it gently. A half-second staring contest, before Marti’s back-tracking. The wine aisle. They stand in front of the shelves. 

“Maybe ... a smaller bottle?” Marti holds the bottle now. Doesn’t mointor him, say he can’t have it. He doesn’t hate Marti for it. (Truly, he shouldn’t hate anyone for monitoring his alcohol, his weed, his ━ everything. And truly, he doesn’t. But sometimes he does.) “It’ll be cheaper. And we have to get good at shopping on a budget, then we’ll be pros when we live together.” 

Nico melts. He melts right into the cold floor. Right back together. Marti does this to him. Surprises him, and makes him want everything Marti has. 

“Yeah.” He’s breathing out, looking at Marti. Perfect, perfect Marti, who lets him be weird and doesn’t try to stop him, just direct some of his weirdness into a more productive, a safer outlet. 

“Yeah ━  _ what? _ ” 

“Living ━ together.” It makes his heart jump a beat, thinking of Marti living with him. Whether it’s in his grandmother’s old flat or in a different place that’s all their own or if it’s in five months or five years. Whenever. “And ━ ” a shrug, “ ━ maybe a smaller bottle is better.” 

 

They don’t make food when they get back to Nico’s. Instead, it’s them sitting across from each other in the kitchen, working independently on homework. The bottle of wine between them, slowly draining their glasses. 

Quiet music playing from Nico’s laptop, picked on the way back. 

Feet, ankles resting against each other. 

Calming. 

Whenever Nico gets stuck, he pulls the cuffs of the sweatshirt,  _ Marti’s  _ sweatshirt, over his hands, elbows propping up on the table, bringing them up to his face, and just breathes. 

He’s foolishly ━━━ everywhere. 

His mind is rattling. 

They need to talk. 

He doesn’t want to push. 

But he needs to talk. 

Desperately. 

He doesn’t want to upset Marti. 

“Marti?” He needs to talk. He needs to know if anything has changed. Even if it’s just that now they know, even more solidly, that they have to deal with these kinds of things. He realizes that. 

“Yeah?” Marti glances up, quickly, and then his eyes are back on his laptop. And then he looks back up. Worries the inside of his lip, and his ankle presses a little more against Nico’s. 

“Can we take a break?” He’s leaning forward, chin resting against the top of his laptop. “I think the sunlight in my room is right on my bed, it’ll be really warm.” Marti glances back down at his laptop, his stuff spread out, and back up at Nico. He doesn’t say anything for longer than Nico can handle _ , so _ , about five seconds, “Please.” 

“You’re saying your bed is being warmed up for us?” He closes his laptop, “That’s why I love your bedroom.” Nico shuts his own computer. 

“It’s not  _ that  _ great.” A half-roll of his eyes, and he’s grabbing the bottle of wine. Half-drunk glasses stay in their spot on the dining room table. 

“It  _ is  _ great. It’s even better when you’re there.” Them, standing up and Marti taking the bottle and setting it back on the table, “We’re going to spill it.” A fair enough point. 

Them settling down onto Nico’s bed, in the patch of sunlight that makes his sheets brighter, makes his covers as warm as when they lay there for hours on end. As much as he would like to just curl around Marti, curl into the warmth of Marti, the sun, anything. (But his mind is rattled and scrambling, and he knows they need to talk.) 

“So...” Marti starts. They sit opposite each other, crossed legs, knees pressed against each other’s. Hands in a jumbled mess between them, half-holding, half just resting against each other.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Nico doesn’t quite look up, eyes don’t meet Marti. But Marti breathes in deeply, exhales heavily. 

“We were all hanging out, drinking a little, messing around. Me and Gio went out to get some air. We were a bit tipsy, everything was fine. Those guys showed up, from Incanti’s party. The ones who were hitting on Eva.”  He doesn’t say  _ the guys who called me  _ **_that name_ ** . “Saw me. Recognized me. Thought it would be really funny to say some more things. We tried to ignore them, decided to go back inside. We were lucky that Elia and Luca came out to find us right then, so Elia could go ━  _ get backup _ ,” Marti’s hands shake where they rest next to Nico’s own, and so he takes a hold of them. Marti sounds ━, “And then hit me right ━ then. I ━ don’t know how to fight. Obviously. They got a hold of me, roughed me up. Gio tried to get me out of the way.” Nico is able to look up now, but instead, Marti’s head is hanging as he’s trying to recount the events as quickly as he can. “And then they got hit a bunch because of me, and ━ ” 

“Not because of you.” Nico is quick to say. It all hurts so much more than he thought it would. So, so, so much more. “Because of those assholes.” 

“I didn’t want to run away, because then I would leave Gio and Elia and Luca and I couldn’t do that.” 

“You’re brave.” Nico brushes his fingers over Marti’s. “You’re very brave and so are they, but you, most of all.” 

“Not that much.” 

“Very brave. I promise. Just ━ being you.” Marti’s fingers tighten around his own, “And being with me. That’s brave.” Marti nods, a little hesitant, “You’re so brave.” 

“Ni...” 

“No ━ you don’t get to refute this. You’re brave. And strong. And I love you.” Marti lifts his eyes a bit, then they drop again. 

“I don’t want to think about it.” 

“We’re done. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.” They quiet a little, until Marti breaks the silence.

“I don’t want things to change. With us.” Lifts his eyes, his chin, to look at Nico. Nico, who lets his lips fall easily into a smile. 

“They won’t. I promise.” That’s all he wanted to hear. That Marti didn’t want any of  _ them  _ to stop. Maybe they’ll just have to be a bit more aware. A bit more noticing of small things that people do, that people say.  “Nothing is going to change.” He says it with as much confidence as he can. 

“Good.”

“Thank you for telling me what happened.” Marti nods. 

“I told Filippo. This time. The basics.” 

“Alright.” He watches Marti’s eyes for a moment; Marti’s eyes that seem a little flighty, but Nico feels like his  **own** aren’t good at sticking to Marti’s gaze, so it’s okay. “How do you feel?” 

“I’m fine.” It sounds a little more strained than previous times, but Nico’s not going to push. Marti leans a little closer, and they’re closer and closer to being two cards, holding each other up. One of Marti’s hands untangles from Nico’s, and comes up to brush over Nico’s cheek, into his hair and combing lightly through air-dried curls. “What about you?” He could just repeat Marti’s own words back to him. Repeat a  _ I’m fine  _ lie he’s told so many times. 

“I’m worried.” Lets his frame fall a little closer to Marti, “Afraid. Confused. Uncertain.” It’s a lot of emotions. A dip of his head, “Angry.” Quiet. “Angry that they hit you. Angry at myself for not being there.” --- “Angry at myself for making you keep think about this.” Marti’s fingers making their way through his hair, calming, familiar. 

“I’m angry at them, too.” Marti whispers. A secret. They can’t be angry, not outright. They can be angry about it right here, with just them. “But I’m not angry at you for not being there. You were studying. That’s important, because I want to be able to brag about my university boyfriend in the fall.” Marti’s lips curve into a small smile. “My smart, grown-up, university boyfriend.” 

“ _ Marti _ ━ ” Bites back an overwhelming smile. He doesn’t do a very good job. 

“ _ Nico ━  _ ” A mimic of his voice, nothing short of endearing. Half a sigh, “Please don’t worry about me?” It tilts into a question, “You don’t have to.”  _ He does. He has to worry. _ “And...” Marti bites his lip in thought, and his voice comes out just above a whisper, “I’m afraid, and confused, and all ━ all those things, but I don’t know what to do about that, right now.” Nico nods, “Maybe we have to just sleep on it. I think ━ it’s still a shock. I don’t want anything between us to change. That much I know.” 

“Sleeping on it sounds good.” Nico agrees. Half a smirk crawls onto his face.“Especially if I’m sleeping with you.” Leans a bit closer.

“ _ Ni! _ ” Marti’s cheeks only flush the slightest. But it’s still cute. Everything about Marti is cute. And beautiful. And handsome. “Oh,  _ Nì _ .” It comes out on a bit of a sigh, and what else is Nico supposed to do except lean forward and kiss Marti. 

“I love you.” Nico, however, pulls away quickly, because these words are more important, “Very much.” Marti kisses him, pushing forward, his other hand coming to rest on Nico’s thigh, Nico’s hands coming to cup Marti’s face. Marti’s hand a little heavier on his thigh, as he pushes up to untangle his legs from under him, push up onto his knees. 

A slide of one of Nico’s hands down Marti’s chest, coming to curve around Marti’s waist, to the trace of the top of Marti’s jeans, sliding up under his shirt. Their lips break apart, but they’re keeping each other as close as they can as Nico uncrosses his own legs, so he can let Marti rest between them. They fall backward, and Nico sighs, even if his head misses his pillow, because he was  _ right _ , his sheets are warm and comfortable. Chin lifts up to reach Marti’s lips, hand on Marti’s cheek pushing to get a better grip to pull Marti down and fucking  _ kiss  _ him. 

“I love you.” Marti says  _ instead  _ of kissing him. 

“Me, too.” 

“Yeah ━ I know.” Marti’s smiling, he’s smiling and nothing else matters. 

“I know that you know.” Nico’s hand pushes further up under Marti’s shirt, trying to pull him closer, everywhere. A little hum of agreement from Marti before he’s leaning down to kiss Nico again. And again. And pulls away to look at Nico. Nico, who has the sun slicing into his peripheral vision. 

_ Marti _ , who looks fucking beautiful. Especially where the sun hits his hair and makes it  **very clear** what his hair color is. The beautiful, beautiful auburn. 

“What do you want?” Nico breathes out, Marti’s hand slides down his thigh to pull him closer, “Marti --” His name on an exhale. 

“I want ━ ” Marti seems to want to say something else, but instead just pushing down to kiss Nico more. “Just this for a bit?” When pulls away, their breath mixing between them. 

“Sounds good.” 

“ _ Sounds good? _ ” Nico lets out a chuckle at Marti’s mimic of his words. “Sounds good.” It’s funny and their kisses are half laughs for a little before they drift into something deeper. 

It’s too much to go further, further than making out. Too much for right now. And at some point it drifts back into Marti’s forehead resting against Nico’s, back to Marti settling down next to Nico, to the sunlight sliding across the floor, the wall, away from them. To Nico moving, half laying on Marti. To Nico half-propping himself up above Marti so he can press light kisses along his neck, the growing bruise on his throat, almost to his collarbone. And then he can settle back down, comfortably on his pillow, and pulling Marti to him. 

“I’m going to worry about you. And you can’t complain, because if I don’t, then you’re not getting special treatment for  _ at least  _ a week.” Nico finally says, arm around Marti’s shoulder, hand pushed up under the sleeve of his shirt, his thumb over Marti’s skin.

“What does special treatment consist of?” And Marti considers another moment, “I thought I already got special treatment, since you’re my boyfriend?” 

“I mean, you already get special treatment over people like Gio. But ━  _ this  _ special treatments means ... I’ll buy you lunch.” 

“You already do that.”

“Alright, true.” A light chuckle, “Blowjobs?” 

“Again, you already give me those.” Marti breathes laughter that Nico can feel, clear as day, through his t-shirt. 

“I’ll carry your bookbag.” 

“We aren’t in the same class, you would be late.” 

“You don’t seem to want this special treatment all that much.” He teases. “How about ...” A quiet moment of thought, “... A date night? Wine and dine?” 

“We already have the wine.  _ And  _ you got me in your bed before dinner.” 

“We’re halfway there. I just have to cook for you.” 

“I’m doomed, then.” 

“You  _ know  _ I can cook when I have a recipe. And we have recipes. Lots of them. You choose?” Marti turns a bit more toward him. Arm slung over his torso. “And just so you know, I’m going to fuss. For a while.” It’s half-joking, “So if I get  _ too  _ overbearing, let me know.” 

“I expect ━ breakfast in bed.” Marti teases,  _ as if  _ Marti isn’t going to get breakfast in bed whenever he stays at Nico’s. 

“Of course.” 

“And ... baths. Those bath bombs that Silvia talks about. Except I might get glitter in my hair. I think they all have glitter in them.” 

“Of course. I can get you bath bombs.” Nico murmurs. 

“You know what I really want?” Marti asks, quietly. 

“What?” 

“I just want you.” Nico melts. He melts and he knows everything is going to be okay. They’re going to be okay. Even if it’s only when it’s  _ just them _ . 

“That’s pretty easy.” Marti settles more into him, face burying into his neck. “You know what else I’m thinking about?” A hum from Marti, “Maybe we should go on a vacation? Or ━ maybe not even a vacation. More like ... a getaway. A  _ romantic  _ getaway, if you would like.” A chuckle from Marti, a half-muffled, 

“Let me know when you have something planned.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this a bit of a mess? maybe so, & sorry for taking over a week to write this, i got hit with school shit that i _actually_ couldn't put off :/

**Author's Note:**

> there is a second part / chapter on its way, i just haven't has as much time to write the last few days as i wish i would have, but it's in the works.


End file.
